Let the World Spin Outside Our Door
by poetzproblem
Summary: Quinn Fabray is in his kitchen. It's the first thought that Kurt has when he stumbles, bleary-eyed, out of his bedroom to put on a pot of coffee before he proceeds with his usual morning rituals. And since he's ninety-nine percent certain that she wasn't in their loft last night when he went to bed, he's wondering if they need to get the lock to their front door fixed. Faberry Week


**Author's Note:** Written for Faberry Week, Day 2 - _Sleepover_. Just a little oneshot. Title from Jewel's _Morning Song_.

Eternal thanks and cyber-hugs to Skywarrior108 for being the most awesome beta.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Glee_ or the characters, I just like to play with them…strictly non-profit.

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**Let the World Spin Outside Our Door**

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_Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.  
~Emily Dickinson_

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Quinn Fabray is in his kitchen.

It's the first thought that Kurt has when he stumbles, bleary-eyed, out of his bedroom to put on a pot of coffee before he proceeds with his usual morning rituals. He's learned from living with both Rachel and Santana that he has to get an early start to the day if he wants any chance of enjoying his bathroom time unimpeded. Even then, he's typically interrupted before he's finished. Santana, especially, doesn't have any qualms about barging in on him, no matter the state of his undress or the sensitivity of his private activities. They really need to get a lock that works.

And since he's ninety-nine percent certain that Quinn wasn't in their loft last night when he went to bed, he's wondering if they need to get the lock to their front door fixed as well. She looks surprisingly fresh as she pours herself a cup of coffee from the pot that she's apparently brewed. She glances up at him when she hears his footfalls come to a stuttering stop and smiles politely. "Good morning, Kurt. Would you like some coffee?" she asks, already pulling down another mug from the cabinet with unexpected familiarity. For a moment, Kurt wonders if he's still in bed, dreaming.

"Quinn? What an…unexpected surprise," he mutters, self-consciously smoothing his palms over his hair. He's certain that it's probably sticking up in the most unflattering way. He rarely even allows his roommates to see him before his morning primping.

Quinn offers him the coffee with a smirk. "I was in the neighborhood."

"At six in the morning?" he questions flatly, taking the mug from her hand.

She shrugs, glancing away. "I was in the city last night and missed my train back. Rachel invited me to sleep over."

"Rachel did?" he echoes dumbly.

"Yes," Quinn snaps. "Why is that so surprising?"

"Maybe because you've been M.I.A. for months," he fires right back before he can think better of it. The last time any of them had seen her had been at Finn's funeral. She hadn't even bothered to make an appearance at his memorial. Kurt thinks he has a right to be a little bit pissed off.

He watches a muscle in Quinn's cheek jump as she glares at him. "I've been in New Haven. Trains and phones work both ways, you know?"

"That's hardly the point."

He hears his name sharply barked out from behind him, and he turns to see Rachel, already dressed for the day and sporting a frown and red-rimmed eyes. "Quinn is my guest," she scolds him. "I would appreciate it if you'd treat her as such."

"You've been crying," he points out needlessly. "Don't even try to deny it. Your puffy eyes are a dead giveaway."

"I'm fine, Kurt," she reassures him, moving further into the kitchen. "It's true that Quinn and I both had a nice cry last night," she says, glancing to Quinn with a shy smile, "but we're better now."

Kurt eyes Quinn warily, even though she's currently gazing at Rachel with a tender expression. "Really?" he scoffs, noting Quinn's perfectly clear eyes.

Quinn's gaze cuts back to him, all traces of tenderness replaced with ice. "Yes, really."

"And where was I when all of this was happening?" he asks Rachel.

She rolls her eyes at him. "Sleeping, I assume." She reaches for the coffee pot to get her own morning fix. "We didn't come home until late." She tilts her head thoughtfully. "Or, early, I suppose. We didn't want to wake you. Accidentally waking up Santana was bad enough."

Quinn snickers before taking a sip of her coffee. Kurt slides into a chair and sets his mug on the table, looking up at Rachel uncertainly. "And you're okay with her just showing up out of the blue?"

"I'm standing right here," Quinn growls.

"Where were you when she really needed you?" he challenges, vindicated when he sees her wince—until Rachel slams her own mug down on the table.

"That's enough," she commands, placing her hands on her hips and frowning down at him. "For your information, Kurt, Quinn _has _been here for me. Despite what you think, you're not privy to every detail of my life, nor every email or phone call. Of course it would have been nice if Quinn could have been physically present as well, but I," and she hesitates here, glancing over at Quinn who is pensively chewing on the corner of her lower lip. "I understand why she couldn't be," Rachel says resolutely.

The women share an odd smile that Kurt can't quite interpret before Rachel turns back to him with a hard look. "Now, I'd appreciate it if you'd apologize."

He slumps back in his chair and crosses his arms petulantly. He's only attempting to look out for Rachel's well-being. After all, _he_ was the one who held her when she fell apart after hearing the news of Finn's death, and _he's _the one still comforting her when she's suddenly overwhelmed by a memory—well, he and Santana are. Quinn has been nowhere to be seen until today. "Fine," he mumbles on a resigned sigh. "I'm sorry that I assumed you'd been as distant with Rachel as you have been with the rest of us."

Quinn's eyes flash at the backhanded apology, but she purses her lips and nods. "I supposed that I should apologize for being...unavailable. I've been...dealing with a few things," she admits haltingly.

Kurt tilts his head in curiosity. He can't help wondering what she's talking about, but he decides not to press her right now. From the sympathy showing on Rachel's face, he's fairly certain that she understands Quinn's meaning. It's probably wiser to just ask her later. He and Quinn have never exactly been close, and Quinn is—well, _Quinn_.

In any case, he doesn't have time to delve into Quinn's odd behavior any longer because Santana comes prowling into the kitchen with an irritated, "Ay, dios! It wasn't enough that you drama queens woke me up at quarter past too-fucking-early o'clock this morning, now you have to be even louder and more annoying at the ass-crack of dawn." She jerks open the cabinet and grabs a mug, letting the door slam shut as she drains the last of the coffee in the pot. "Can't even leave me a full freaking cup," she grumbles.

"Good morning to you too, Santana," Quinn drawls, leaning back against the counter. "So nice of you to grace us with your delightful presence."

"Bite me, Fabray."

"Been there, done that," she mutters into her coffee cup.

Rachel releases an audible huff before she straightens her shoulders and forces a too-wide smile. "I'm taking Quinn sight seeing today," she announces cheerfully, picking up her coffee cup. "You're both welcome to join us."

Santana hums dismissively as she slides into the chair next to Kurt. "No thanks. I'm already past my daily limit for watching sappy Hallmark moments."

An odd look flits over Rachel's face—Kurt almost thinks it's relief. He takes a deliberate sip of his own coffee before he says, "I'll have to decline as well. I still have a lot of errands to run before Blaine officially moves in." He can't help grinning as he thinks about his fiancé. In just a two weeks, he'll be in New York for good.

"And we'll have even less room in this place," Santana complains.

"You're welcome to move out at anytime, Santana," he reminds her sharply.

Her dark eyes narrow, and she scowls at him. "Or you and Bilbo Baggins could find a nice, cozy little hobbit-hole of your very own in the shire."

Kurt huffs in indignation while Quinn only chuckles. "Careful, Santana, your inner Tolkien geek is showing."

Santana turns the full force of her glower onto Quinn. "Says the woman who has a Gryffindor tie, blazer, and scarf."

Quinn's cheeks instantly tint pink, and she tries to disappear behind her coffee cup. Rachel grins at her, using her shoulder to give Quinn's a little bump. "Do you really?" she asks with sincere curiosity.

"No," Quinn quickly denies.

"Liar."

"Shut up, Santana," Quinn hisses.

"I think it's cute," Rachel murmurs with a soft smile.

There's something about that smile that seems achingly familiar, and Kurt marvels at it—until Santana drives it away with a snarky, "At least it isn't _Twilight_."

Rachel stiffens, dropping her gaze as her own cheeks darken. "Okay, Quinn and I are going now," she rushes out, snagging Quinn's cup right out of her hand despite her mild protest and dumping both it and her own into the sink before she slips her arm through Quinn's and tugs her toward the door. "We'll see you later," she tells them, pausing only long enough to grab both of their purses on the way out.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Santana calls after them gleefully right before Rachel sends the door sliding closed with a bang. She laughs and reburies her nose in her coffee.

Kurt runs a hand through his (still messy) hair and tries to make sense of what just happened. "Did you have any idea that Quinn was coming to New York?" he asks Santana after a moment.

"Not until I woke up to find the bitch on top of me," she tells him with a shrug. "And not in the fun, wore-her-out-after-sex way."

Kurt wrinkles his nose in distaste. "That is an image I didn't need in my head."

"Good thing you were otherwise engaged on Valentine's Day," she mumbles.

"What do you mean?" he asks suspiciously.

"Nothing," she dismisses with a wave of her hand. "Look, I admit that I was a little annoyed when Quinn blew off the kumbayas to stay at Yale for whatever reason, but apparently Rachel is fine with it, so who are we to judge?"

Kurt sighs. He knows that everyone grieves in their own way. Perhaps that's what Quinn had been doing. In any case, Rachel seems happy to have her here now, and that's really all that matters. "I suppose you're right," he concedes.

"I'm always right," Santana agrees, rising from her chair and setting her empty cup on the counter. She starts to walk away from the kitchen, calling back over her shoulder, "Now why don't you make me some more coffee while I grab a shower?"

Kurt starts to say 'okay,' before he jumps out of his chair, sending it scraping back across the floor. "You stay out of that bathroom, Santana Lopez," he screeches, chasing after her. Santana double-times her steps and races into the bathroom just before Kurt catches her. "That's my shower," he yells, slapping his hands against the closed door.

"Not anymore," she taunts from inside.

"Santana!" He twists the doorknob, but it doesn't budge, and he pounds his closed fist against the wood in frustration. "Why does this lock only work when you're the one in the bathroom?"

Her laughter rings out loud and clear through the door. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Thwarted from his plans, he ends up making another pot of coffee. It's cold by the time Santana finally gets out of the bathroom, and he scowls at her as he rushes inside. He really shouldn't have had that second cup. Once he's fresh and combed and ready for the day, he sets off to run his errands. He has some outfits to pick up at the dry-cleaner—some of his shirts and jackets simply cannot survive a New York laundromat—and he needs to buy more hangers and look for some kind of miraculous storage system that can maximize his closet space. He thinks he might be able to fit a chest of drawers into the corner of his bedroom if he can find one with the right dimensions.

All in all, it's a fairly productive day. Rachel texts him in the afternoon to let him know that she and Quinn will bring home dinner. He can't resist asking if they're having fun, and Rachel responds that it's been a very good day. He quirks an eyebrow at that. They definitely need to have a little conversation.

When they finally come back to the loft, Rachel is carrying two large pizza boxes, and Quinn has a separate container filled with salad. Santana practically attacks them in the doorway, grabbing one of the pizza boxes with an irritated, "It's about time you got your asses back here. I'm starving." She opens the box and pulls out a piece of pizza to bite into before she even makes it to the kitchen.

Kurt shakes his head at her typical uncouth behavior in regards to food and goes about setting the table. Quinn collapses into one of the chairs with a groan, pulling off her boots and absently rubbing her feet. Santana snickers, mouth half-full of pizza. "Did Berry wear you out?"

Quinn huffs, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "I think we walked every inch of Manhattan."

"That's hardly true," Rachel argues as she spoons the salad onto a plate and places it in front of Quinn. "You just weren't wearing sensible shoes."

"I didn't realize I'd need them," Quinn counters.

Rachel frowns and looks at her with concern shining in her eyes. "I...I'm sorry, Quinn. I just thought it would be nice to spend the day together. I didn't mean to overtax you."

Kurt watches Quinn reach out a hand and run it over Rachel's wrist and down until she's loosely holding her hand. "Hey...you didn't. I loved today," she tells Rachel quietly, instantly bringing a soft smile to her lips as she gives Quinn's hand a gentle squeeze. Oh yes, Kurt thinks, he is definitely having a conversation with Rachel later. He honestly hasn't seen her react like this since—well, since _Finn_.

The rest of evening is surprisingly enjoyable. The four of them fall into an easy conversation about countless important and unimportant things. Kurt spends half of his time watching Rachel watch Quinn and the other half watching Quinn watch Rachel. Sometime around his second piece of pizza, he comes to the startling realization that those looks aren't exactly new. He remembers seeing them in high school from time to time, but he'd dismissed them because it was _Quinn_ and _Rachel_, and his stepbrother was always standing between them.

Now he can't seem to stop noticing. He takes note of the little things—like Rachel insisting that Quinn relax while she flits around cleaning up their dinner, or the way Quinn calms her with a simple touch, or Rachel's eyes lingering on Quinn after she's changed into a pair of borrowed sweats and a t-shirt, or Quinn remembering details that Rachel has rambled on about in the past that everyone else, including himself, has forgotten.

It's nearly one o'clock in the morning when the conversation turns to the intricacies of Quinn's studies at Yale, and Santana grows bored and goes to bed, reminding them that, "_Someone_ interrupted my sleep last night. I'd appreciate it if that didn't happen again." Kurt doesn't last much longer after that. To be honest, he's not even sure that either one of them really notices when he bids them goodnight.

The next morning, when he pads out of his bedroom in route to the kitchen, he finds the two of them curled up on the sofa, fast asleep. Quinn is twisted half on her back and half on her side with one arm flung around Rachel's waist. Kurt isn't entirely certain where the other arm is, and he's even less certain that he wants to know. Rachel is comfortably curled on top of Quinn, her mouth pressed into Quinn's throat and her head resting in the curve of her shoulder. He can't help grinning down at them for a few moments before he tiptoes to the kitchen to put on the coffee.

On his way back, he pauses to glance at them again just as Santana walks out of the bedroom. She wipes the sleep from her eyes and stops beside him, looking at Rachel and Quinn and their tangled limbs with smirk.

"They're adorable," Kurt whispers, pressing a palm to his chest.

"They need to bone already," Santana mutters, far less quietly. "All the sexual tension is making me want to hump a chair."

"Shhh," he hisses, frowning at her, "you'll wake them. And anyway, Rachel is still grieving for Finn," he acknowledges wistfully, "and who even knows if Quinn would...you know," he finishes lamely, waving a hand back and forth between them on the sofa. Until yesterday, he would have sworn that Quinn Fabray wasn't into to women at all.

"Oh,_ I_ know," Santana says pointedly. "And she definitely would."

"Really?" Kurt asks softly.

"_Really_, really," she tells him with a knowing grin. "And Rachel won't be grieving forever. She could do a lot worse than Quinn," Santana admits with a shrug.

"Maybe we should try to get Quinn to visit more often," he suggests mildly.

Santana snorts. "Only if _you_ share a room with them."

He crosses his arms in annoyance. "Are you going to stop interrupting my bathroom time?"

"No."

"Then no."

Santana sighs and shakes her head. "You do realize if Q starts spending more time here, there will be one more person fighting for the bathroom."

"Rachel will make you a schedule," Quinn whispers harshly, startling the both of them. "Now stop talking and go away," she demands.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Santana replies, albeit a bit more quietly, before she heads for the kitchen.

"I swear, if you wake her up," Quinn threatens in hushed tones—rather convincingly in Kurt's opinion, considering that she hasn't moved an inch and barely even has one eye cracked open.

"Sorry," Kurt whispers, turning for the bathroom, only to be stopped by Quinn very quietly saying his name.

"Just so you know," she tells him, eyes still closed and a smile dancing on her lips, "I intend to sleep over a whole lot more."

He lingers long enough to watch her turn her head slightly and bury her nose into Rachel's hair. Rachel sighs and breathes out Quinn's name as she snuggles closer. With a smile, Kurt goes about his business, happy to start a brand new day.


End file.
